


Hey, Bandwagons Ain't So Bad!

by prairiecrow



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Long-Term Relationship(s), Love Wins, M/M, Opposites Attract, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Same-sex marriage is legal in all fifty states as of less than a minute ago, Peter Venkman isn't one to waste any time, and Egon Spengler has to admit that sometimes there's something to be said for impulsiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Bandwagons Ain't So Bad!

"Egon..." He knew that tone: light, casual, but wheedling nonetheless. And after almost thirty years of close association (among other things), he also knew better than to fall for it.

So he simply said "No." Without even looking up from the proton pack circuitry he was in the process of modifying.  
  
_Light and casual_ became a clear whine. "Eeeeee-gonnnn --"  
  
"Peter," he responded laconically, before surrendering to the inevitable -- because Peter in this mood was utterly impervious to being dissuaded through being ignored -- and pushed the magnifier glasses up to his hairline, turning a level gaze on the brown-haired man almost bouncing on the soles of his sneakered feet beside Egon's wide project table. Now that he was gazing outside the tight circle of light cast by the table's high-powered focal lamp, he could see that strong sunlight was streaming in through the east-facing windows, picking out some fine threads of white at Peter's temples and casting his angular face into strong chiaroscuro: it made the brunet look more foxlike than ever, a frivolous comparison that Egon thrust firmly from his mind... although he had to admit that Peter, more than anybody else he'd ever known, was capable of injecting frivolity into almost any situation.

Peter's smile was wide and sly. "C'mon," and he'd progressed to _crooning_ , edging around the side of the table toward Egon's seat by stealthy half-inches, "the Supreme Court ruling just came down, and --"  
  
"-- same-sex marriage is legal in all fifty states," Egon interjected evenly, "effective immediately."  
  
Which made Peter's grin falter somewhat: he knew Egon's tones of voice, too. "Well, yeah. As of about a minute ago."

Egon raised an eyebrow at him. "And?"  
  
"And?" The question was tossed back at him, with an indignant inflection: _What do you **think** I mean?_

"You want to do something about it," Egon stated.

"No," Peter retorted, "it's a terrible idea, I want to completely ignore the whole -- Egon! Of _course_ I want to do something about it! As in, right now!"  
  
The other eyebrow rose to join its neighbor. "I fail to see what --"  
  
"Spengs," and Peter's tone was as fond as it was exasperated, "let me spell it out for you in words even a terminally-disconnected-from-social-reality physicist can understand: Gay marriage is now legal. We're two guys who love each other lots. And I want to get married -- to you."  
  
This too was not unexpected. It was, however, disconcerting. "You want to marry me... now?

A dramatic sigh and eyes rolled Heavenward, begging for patience. "Yes."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
Another inch closer. "Yep."  
  
"You want me to get up, leave this circuit board -- which is at a very delicate stage in the refit process -- and have a shower and get dressed in my best suit, and accompany you to the --"  
  
Peter was a master of frivolity. He was also a master of the _Shut up, you wonderful idiot genius!_ kiss, which he employed to great effect to interrupt Egon's list of supposed expectations. It went on for long seconds, and when Peter at last pulled back a scant two inches, his strong hand still wrapped around the nape of Egon's neck, Egon would have been lying if he'd tried to claim that he wasn't experiencing a thoroughly sentimental melting sensation in the vicinity of his heart.  
  
"Say _Yes, Peter, of course I'll marry you, you gorgeous hunk of manliness,_ " those thin but talented lips breathed against his own, "then get your ass off that stool and follow me. We're going straight to the City Clerk's office in Ecto 1 -- just the way we are."  
  
For a fraction of a second Ego considered protesting that his current attire -- a lab coat over clothes as casual as any he owned -- wasn't suitable for an event of such magnitude, or pointing out that Peter, in jeans and a somewhat rumpled Red Sox t-shirt, wasn't much better. Then he considered the matter for another half second, and concluded that perhaps it was fitting: after all, this was how they lived, as comfortable together as a pair of well-broken-in shoes, and perhaps, just perhaps, they'd be less likely to be noticed by the media if they went out in civilian dress.  
  
"They'll spot you a mile away," Peter smirked -- he knew, of course, he always knew -- and he ran his fingers through Egon's distinctive forward flip of platinum blond hair before kissing his lover-soon-to-be-husband again, this time more briskly. "Now let's get a move on. That marriage license isn't gonna sign itself!"  
  
How typically Peter: always the first into something new, usually with both feet, and always keenly in tune with his partner's own inclinations, even when those leanings went unspoken! And as Egon permitted his hand to be taken and let himself be pulled to his feet and guided from the room, listening to Peter's assurances that they'd have a full-out wedding later, "One this great city of ours will talk about for _decades!"_ , he reflected that while such impulsiveness might be alien to his own methodical nature, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing -- oh no, not (as Peter would say) _by a long shot_.  
  
THE END


End file.
